


Breathless

by Morning_Glory



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Darcy Lewis Smut Week, F/F, F/M, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, Multi, Other: See Story Notes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, What Was I Thinking?, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:33:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morning_Glory/pseuds/Morning_Glory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompt fills for the 2013 Darcy Lewis Smut Week Challenge on Tumblr. Various pairings and warnings. See individual chapter notes for more details.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Riding High (Darcy/?)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first attempt at something for the Darcy Lewis Smut Week Challenge. Also my first real attempt at writing anything even resembling smut, so apologies in advance for that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: chosen prompt: Mile High Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw this prompt and decided the Bus was the perfect location. Deliberately vague on the He, so it’s open to readers choice (because I couldn’t decide between Coulson and Ward while writing it and May was, sadly, too busy flying the Bus).

Darcy swears her knees have turned to water and she grabs desperately at the edge of the desk to steady herself. She’s sure the only thing keeping her from collapsing completely to the floor is  _him_ , kneeling between her legs, holding her exactly where he wants her.

His right hand slides down, hooking beneath her left knee and dragging her leg over his shoulder, shifting her into a better position for him. His tongue never slows for an instant, twisting her up to the edge, teasing at all of her most sensitive spots and retreating. The relentless attention leaves her panting,  _writhing_ ; bucking helplessly against him, seeking the release she craves. He moves his hands to pin her hips back against the desk, doubling his efforts until she shatters for him.

Darcy brings one arm up and buries her mouth in the crook of her elbow, desperate to keep from making a sound anyone passing by might hear as he methodically takes her apart. He doesn’t stop, drawing out her reaction until she reaches down to push his head away with a shaking hand. He looks up at her from his knees, and the sight of him like that, appearance still immaculate aside from his mouth, red and oh so slick from her, makes Darcy whimper. She has to close her eyes against the smug grin he gives as he licks his lips. Darcy keeps her eyes closed, fighting to steady her breathing as he moves around the room. She doesn’t look again until he finally speaks.

"We should see how Foster and FitzSimmons are getting along in the lab. After that, I’ll finish the tour.” His voice is even and nothing about his appearance is out of place anymore, as if he hasn’t just spent his time seducing her in the office instead of showing her around the team’s super secret spy plane like he was supposed to. “I still have to show you where you’ll be sleeping." The promise in his eyes as he watches her stirs a wave of heat in her belly, distracting her just enough to not comment as he slips her panties into his pocket before opening the door.


	2. Give Up My Defences (Clint/Darcy, slight Bucky/Clint/Darcy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: chosen prompt: Wet Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a deleted scene from the in-progress sequel to another fic I wrote, Broken Remnants, but can be read as a stand-alone. Basically, the last sentence of the fic sums up my general feelings about how this happened.
> 
> Mostly Clint/Darcy, with a little bit of Bucky/Clint/Darcy.

“What are  _you_  doing here?” Darcy’s voice is slightly muffled by her face half buried in her pillow, her heart pounding erratically from the shock of waking to someone in her room, only to realize it’s Clint. “And why are you  _naked_?” And that is definitely the important question, because while no one is supposed to know the location of this safe-house where Bucky brought her to recover, it’s not impossible Clint could have found out. The lack of clothing though, that’s just odd, even for Clint.

She allows herself a brief moment to appreciate the sight before closing her eyes, but not before noticing his grin. Of course the Hawk saw her looking. Darcy buries her face in her pillow, not embarrassed to be caught looking, but trying to wrap her half-asleep brain around what’s going on. Neither of them ever hid their mutual appreciation of each other, physically or otherwise, and it’s hardly the first time she’s seen him undressed, but this is different. It’s always been accidental before, something forgotten about in the terrifying mess of nightmares and aftercare and this is very much deliberate. She feels the mattress shift and with her face hidden, her other senses seem that much more aware of him; the heat of him next to her hip, even though he hasn’t touched her yet, his slow breathing getting closer. She feels the press of his lips against her shoulder, through her shirt, and twitches.

    “Clint?”

    “Missed you.” He continues to press kisses against her clothed back, slowly making a trail down her spine as he slides her blanket away. Darcy squirms away, rolls over so she can see him properly. He meets her eyes and, as always, reads her like an open book. “Tell me you haven’t thought about this.”

    “You know I have.” And oh, how she wants to give in. But it’s not like that between them, he’s always been clear about that, and there are so many reasons why it’s a bad idea. She shouldn’t want this, but she has almost since the beginning.

    “Tell me to stop.” There is the hint of a challenge in his voice and that, more than anything, convinces her that he’s serious. He only uses that tone with her when he wants her to actually think carefully about what he’s saying. His eyes never leave her face as she considers his suggestion, and she knows he sees the exact moment she decides.

    “Clint,” Darcy reaches out to him as she nods, wishing that the newly formed lump in her throat wasn’t choking off any other words. In the end, it doesn’t matter, as his mouth covers hers and talking is suddenly not a priority.

It isn’t a gentle first kiss, but one tinged with desperation, built on the consuming passion of years of UST. Clint’s left hand tangles in her hair, holding her to him as he shifts above her and Darcy whimpers, opening for him, giving up all control and letting him lead. Lost in the sensations of finally,  _finally_ , having this with him, Darcy is unclear on exactly when or how Clint strips her t-shirt and panties from her so she is as naked as he is.

He nuzzles against the side of her neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses against her throat, and Darcy moans appreciatively, relishing the feel of his hot breath and soft lips and teeth that are just the right kind of tease, dragging across her skin. Her head falls back and she shivers as his fingers trace designs starting at her collarbone and working their way lower, followed closely by his tongue. She presses up into the teasingly light touch, even as he avoids getting close to any of the obvious spots to rile her up.

Darcy forces her eyes open and watches Clint as he touches her, the shift of his muscles so fascinating in her current state that it sparks an urgent need to feel him under her palms. Of course he watches her back, because he’s Hawkeye, and watching is one of his best developed skills. She feels his gaze like a caress, leaving her skin tingling and the rest of her anxious to pull him closer and feel him against her fully.

She gives into the temptation and her hands seek out Clint, slowly moving down his chest, up his back, and over his arms; sliding up and down his body, touching, grasping, groping over every bit of him that she can reach as she arches up into him. The pleased sounds he makes at the attention is addicting and Darcy wants to hear more. Wriggling beneath him, she manages to slide a leg between his thighs, shifting it  _just right_ , and grins as he bucks helplessly against her. A low growl rumbles in his throat as Darcy doesn’t hold back, not keeping to whatever rules he’s using, and seeking out every sensitive spot she can find to turn him on as much as she already is. Her nails scrape lightly against his abs and Clint’s head jerks up, lips red and pupils blown wide as he stares at her, panting.

    The heat in his eyes and the slow grin that forms as he stares at her has Darcy biting her lip, and suddenly Clint isn’t teasing anymore, his fingers dragging down her body and between her thighs, making sure she’s ready before sliding inside, twisting and stretching, determined to make her fall apart. Her back bows as she arches up into his touch. A strangled moan catches in her throat for just a moment until he brushes against that one spot that makes her cry out.

“Well, isn’t this a pretty sight,” Darcy gasps at the sound, mind blanking in surprise for a moment, even as Clint keeps going, ignoring the intrusion.

“Bucky?” His name comes out as no more than a strangled whisper as she turns her head to see him walking toward the bed. Clint shivers, arching into the touch when Bucky trails his fingers up his spine as he crawls onto the bed to join them. He leans over and steals a kiss from Darcy before sitting up and grinning at her. Her breath hitches as one of his hands joins Clint’s stroking between her thighs. She feels more than sees their fingers tangling together as they slip inside her, and that is what drives her over the edge, eyes clenching shut as she cries out sharply, body throbbing with the overwhelming sensation.

Darcy jolts awake, flushed and panting and completely alone in her room, shaking in the aftermath of the most intense  _dream_  she can ever remember having. She buries her face in her pillow to muffle the embarrassed groan.

“Aww,  _brain_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: [Any Other World 'verse](http://archiveofourown.org/series/240133)


	3. Drag me in, Slam the door (Clint/Darcy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: chosen prompt - locked in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as an older idea for a drawing that never made it past the rough sketch stage and has been adapted to fit. Also, I seem to be not great at the whole “without plot” thing, even if it is flimsy.
> 
> In which Clint and Darcy are oblivious and Hulk is 1000% done with them.

"So this is weird, right?" Clint stops shoving at the door to peer over his shoulder at where Darcy leans against a stack of boxes. "It’s not just me?"

"Nah, it’s weird." She drops her eyes from the intense study of the ceiling that she’s been doing and actually looks at him for the first time since finding themselves in this mess. "It’s not everyday the Hulk shoves you into a closet and sits in front of the door." Darcy pauses to think over having to actually say those words out loud, shaking her head at the mental image. “Not that I’m aware of anyway. And what did he say to  _you_ , ‘cause I got no chatting when he kidnapped me and stuck me in here, but I know I heard him say something to you about stalling.” And now she’s rambling, the way she always does when she’s nervous. That happens a lot around him. Darcy bites her lip and looks away from Clint again, this time focusing on the floor. She has really got to get a handle on this crush of hers.

Clint curses under his breath, forgetting that in a room this small, Darcy would still hear him. “You heard that, huh?” She’s been around him enough times to recognize that tone. That’s the one that makes Natasha’s eye twitch. Darcy looks up to see him doing that awkward little shuffle he does when he wants to run away, head ducked and rubbing the back of his neck. He’s definitely the one avoiding looking at her now.

Darcy narrows her eyes as a suspicious little thought trickles through her brain. “ _Clint_?” He peeks up at her so quickly she almost misses it; would have if she hadn’t been watching him so intently. She pushes off the boxes, crossing the four steps it takes to plant herself in front of him. Clint watches her warily and takes a step back to regain some space. Darcy arches an eyebrow and steps forward again. Clint startles as his next step stops short when his back ends up against the wall. Darcy pokes him in the chest as he attempts to slide around her and he stops, looking down at her finger.

"Darcy, I-" He freezes when she leans up and presses her lips to his. After a few seconds, Darcy takes his lack of response as a bad sign, disappointment creeping in, just a little, as she pulls back, mind scrambling to come up with some kind of explanation to save face. She was  _so sure_. She doesn’t make it far before Clint has his arms around her, pulling Darcy back in for another kiss that leaves her feeling weak in the knees.

She gives in eagerly, opens her mouth to him and meets the stroke of his tongue with her own when it slides possessively past her lips. Darcy moans softly when Clint slides his hands to her hips to pull her closer and feels the hard press of him against her. She grins at the small, hungry sound he makes in the back of his throat as she wriggles against him.

He pulls back, just a little to whispers against her lips. “You never said anything.”

“Neither did you.” She nips at his lower lip and he growls, kissing her again. His hands shift again, sliding beneath her sweater and Darcy groans at the slow drag of his callused fingers on her bare skin, confidently exploring, seeking all the places that make her squirm and gasp. She shivers when Clint’s aim in this, even with his eyes closed and lost in a kiss, is as perfect as ever. No one has ever got her this hot so quickly before, and she can’t resist the urge to make him feel the same.

Darcy touches him back -turnabout is fair play, after all- and his own hands still as he loses focus. Her hands start at his shoulders and travel over his chest, which rises and falls erratically. She presses wet kisses to Clint’s jaw, his throat, his collarbone and brushes her fingertips over his nipples through the soft fabric of his shirt until he moans and his hips jerk against her. Darcy presses a grin against his chest and he whines softly as she continues the caresses down, along his hips and thighs before sliding back up. Clint twitches as her hands slip underneath his shirt, running over his abs. His skin is hot, and oh how she longs to explore it more thoroughly.

She promises herself to do that later, and follows the trail of hair until her fingers hook themselves into the waistband of his jeans, tugging gently to give him a warning, time to stop her. He doesn’t, and she marvels that he’s so willingly giving her so much control. She ducks beneath his chin to kiss his throat as she carefully undoes the button, pulling back with a look of concentration on her face as she slips her hand inside and wraps her fingers around him. She strokes once, twice; a third time and the tip of him is leaking as he arches into her touch with a ragged gasp.

“ _Darcy_ ,” he shivers and whimpers but she doesn’t change her pace. Clint watches her intermittently, struggling at times to keep his eyes open. Her movements are slow, careful, and she watches his every reaction, learning him. With a soft groan, he finally gives up, lays his head back and closes his eyes, rocking his hips to her pace.

She doesn’t know how much time passes before his hand wraps around her wrist, stilling her movement. She grins, flexing her fingers around him, making him whimper again, but he doesn’t release her, which means it’s time to get creative. There is just enough slack in Clint’s hold for Darcy to shift her hand and drag her nails, oh so lightly, over him. He makes a strangled sound, eyes going wide for a fraction of a second before clenching shut as he stiffens and comes. Lost in the sensations, Clint releases her wrist enough that she gets in a couple more slick strokes, -and  _oh_ , the  _sounds_ he makes at that are  _incredible_ \- before he actually gasps for her to stop. And she does, watching his face as she carefully removes her hand from him with as little contact as she can manage. Clint groans, dropping his head back against the wall and biting down on his lower lip.

Darcy keeps her eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of this, the emotions flickering across his face, throat swallowing convulsively as he struggles to catch his breath. Blue eyes flutter open, still dazed as he stares at her, chest heaving as he tries to get his breathing under control. He drops his head forward onto her shoulder, growling into her neck.

“When we get out of here, we’re going to my room to do things that would make  _Stark_  blush.” Darcy manages a shaky laugh as she nods. The sound of the door clicking loose and sliding open has them scrambling apart and Darcy lunges for it as Clint fixes his clothes as best he can given the circumstances. They peek into the hall together and see Hulk lumbering away. Darcy and Clint both turn red as they hear his grunt before he turns the corner.

"Finally."


	4. Feelin’ Love (Bucky/Darcy, Bucky/Darcy/Natasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: chosen prompt - power dynamics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not the story I planned to write, but this is what happened instead. I don't even know anymore.
> 
>  
> 
> Darcy's frustrated, Bucky's a tease, and Natasha's the one really calling the shots.

Bucky halts Darcy’s roaming fingers by sliding his hands from her hips, up her body, and gathers her arms swiftly above her head. With both her wrists trapped safely in his left hand, he backs her against the nearest wall. She tugs weakly against his grip, heart pounding against her ribcage as she watches him look her over. The frank appreciation in his eyes leaves her blushing and she pulls against his restraining hand again, even knowing it’s futile.

"You know the rules, Doll." He nips at her lower lip, pulling back when she tries to steal a kiss from him. "You agreed to this. If you want to stop, you know what you need to say." He studies her carefully, patiently waiting for her response. Darcy shakes her head, seeing the flash of relief in his expression before his calm mask slips back into place.

“ _Please_ , Bucky?” She closes her eyes at the pleading note she hears in her own voice, but she’s not above begging him to finish this now. Not after the hours of frustrating teasing, strategically planned and executed to leave her tiptoeing on the edge but never quite enough to get her over.

Darcy opens her eyes as her arms are lowered, but not released, to see Bucky sink to his knees at her feet. His free hand shifts her legs apart to give him room and all Darcy can manage is a ragged moan as he grins up at her briefly before leaning in to give her a long, slow lick that avoids her clit entirely. He does it again, and then once more, glancing up at her before changing the pace. He repeats the same pattern a few times before adding a new twist and starting over again, advancing and retreating in ways Darcy can’t predict.

"Fucking  _tease_ ,” Darcy curses weakly, wriggling against Bucky’s mouth to try to get him where she needs him. His free arm presses across her hips, holding her to the wall so she can’t move and nips the inside of her thigh before returning to his mission to drive her insane with his tricky mouth.

"You couldn’t wait for me?" Darcy startles at the new voice, clearly amused by the current scene. "I thought it was my day to call the shots?"

"Tash,  _please_? Make him stop teasing.” her voice is little more than a whimper and she can feel Bucky’s smug grin against her before he leans away to look up at Natasha, licking his lips.

"Got her all nice and ready for you." Natasha arches one perfect brow at him before walking over and slipping her hand between Darcy’s thighs to test his words. Her fingers slide in with ease and Natasha thrusts a few times as Darcy writhes against Bucky’s hold and moans.

Pleased with what she finds, Natasha leans in to kiss Darcy as she drags her fingers out slowly, angling her hand just right to brush against her clit. With a perfect sense of timing, Bucky leans up, capturing one of Darcy’s nipples and tugging, oh so carefully, with his teeth just as Natasha’s fingers circle once, twice, and Darcy screams her release, muffled by Natasha’s mouth.

As the other two withdraw, Darcy stumbles forward on shaky legs, and only Bucky’s quick shifting to steady her keeps her upright. He swings her up into his arms and she slumps against his chest, still trembling.

"Pretty girl, you know we’re just getting started with you." Natasha keeps her voice soft as she runs a fingertip down the exposed line of Darcy’s spine. Darcy whimpers and Natasha strokes her hair soothingly. "Next time, the two of us will team up against James."

"Promise?" her voice is quiet, muffled by the way she buries her face into Bucky’s chest, but still easily understood.

"Looking forward to it, Doll," Bucky teases as he turns towards their bedroom with Natasha leaving a trail of clothes behind her as she follows.


	5. We Could Climb (Darcy/Rachel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: chosen prompt: first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An outtake from the Growing Up ‘verse, set about a year before Giant Leap, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Darcy shivers at the sensations of fingertips trailing lightly across her bare skin, starting at her lips and moving over her chin, down her throat. The touch whispers along her collarbone, over her left shoulder and down her arm, not hesitating over the scars, but making no attempt to avoid them, which causes a surge of warmth in Darcy’s chest.

"Red," She opens her eyes to look up at her girlfriend as Rachel gazes down at her, head propped on her hand.

"Blue-eyed girl," Darcy giggles over their silly pet names for each other, relaxing just a little more into the moment. Rachel smiles, leans down and kisses her, a gentle exploration both familiar and new for them as her free hand continues to wander. She links their fingers and squeezes briefly before shifting her hand to Darcy’s hip, continuing the path down her thigh as far as she can before reversing and dragging the backs of her fingers up, over hips and ribs and breasts, until she stops with Darcy’s heartbeat thudding erratically beneath her palm. "You’re sure?"

"About this or about you? ‘Cause the answer’s the same either way." Darcy smiles, lifting her hand to touch Rachel’s lips, stopping the words before she can get started. "Red, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure, never mind letting you get me naked. That’s a new one for me."

"I know," Rachel grins against her fingers and  _leers_ , eyes tracking just how far down Darcy’s body the blushing travels. “Believe me, I intend to show you just how much I appreciate that.”

Darcy turns, burying her face in the pillows, shoulders shaking with laughter. Her voice is muffled when she speaks. “You’re a little ridiculous, you know?”

"You love it," Rachel nuzzles along Darcy’s jaw until she turns her head to kiss her again. Darcy shifts, sliding her hands around as she turns, and pulls Rachel on top of her.

"Very much so," her finger tangle in short red hair as Rachel cuts off further words with another slow, breathtaking kiss. Darcy rolls her hips, relishing the feeling of skin against skin and arching into Rachel’s carefully exploring hands as they slide over bare flesh, testing, teasing; learning all of the spots that make her writhe.

Darcy’s own exploring fingers stop, gripping tightly as Rachel shifts their bodies, moving legs and angling hips just right so that every time she grinds down Darcy can’t help but buck into it. “Oh,  _fuck_. Red, don’t stop.”

"Not planning on it," Rachel chuckles against Darcy’s throat, whispering into her skin, words of encouragement and passion. Seduction. Love.  

Rachel moves faster against her, kissing Darcy again and swallowing the desperate sounds wrung out by the slick gliding of wet flesh. Darcy shifts again and hits just right, body clenching as she cries out. Above her, Rachel rolls her hips a few more time before moaning softly and stilling.

Darcy rubs her hands soothingly over Rachel’s back, exchanging weak kisses as they wait for their breathing to slow and pulses to resume a normal pace. “You okay?” Rachel’s weak response makes them both laugh.

"Happy birthday to me."


	6. Words I Can’t Say (Darcy/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: chosen prompt - biting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly angsty start to a story I plan to continue when I get more free time to write.

Darcy feels her heart thumping in her chest like a fish struggling on a line, every thrust dragging her closer. This kind of heat, this intensity, like the only thing on his mind is discovering all the ways he can wring pleasured reactions out of her, it’s like nothing she’s experienced before with anyone else. And it hurts, knowing it’s not really  _her_  that he wants.

He was just supposed to be a random bar hookup. A one-time thing.  _James_  -and that’s how he’d introduced himself- wasn’t supposed to look for her again and she definitely wasn’t supposed to be having these kinds of _feelings_  for him. But that was almost a year ago now and she’s in way too deep; knows this thing between them has to end before she slips up and says something she shouldn’t.

It sneaks up on her, the slick slide of his thumb,  _right there_ , and she goes rigid, clenching around him, biting his shoulder to keep the words that want to spill locked behind her teeth. Another thrust, two, and he follows her over the edge, stilling inside her and finally ceasing the litany of exciting, hot,  _filthy_  things he’s been whispering in her ear.

She closes her eyes against the burning sensation of tears that she refuses to let fall.


	7. All In The Hands (Darcy/Bucky, sort of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: chosen prompt - voyeurism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be read as a stand-alone, or as a follow up to what I wrote for day 2

She wakes, panting and hot, mind still wrestling with the dream and body craving release. The images behind her eyes keep replaying and she doesn’t want to go there,  _shouldn’t_ , but she can’t seem to  _stop_. Darcy rubs her thighs together, desperate for friction, feeling the ache that she just can’t ignore. She rolls onto her back, parting her legs as she slides her hand beneath the elastic of her panties, seeking,  _oh_ , that’s it, that’s the spot. She’s so close, moaning softly and cursing her brain for setting her up like this.

She shouldn’t be thinking about them this way, but now that the idea is there, it sticks. For a moment, she imagines it’s not  _her_  fingers, slick and rubbing with intent, but a continuation of the dream and that’s all it takes. She arches her spine, crying out as she comes. She rolls onto her side, hand still pressed between trembling thighs, as she rides out the waves of pleasure.

Heavy eyelids drag open slowly as the soft sound of someone else’s breathing registers.  _Oh, god_. “Bucky?” He’s standing in her doorway in nothing but his boxers and Darcy can’t help the appreciative look she gives him, until her brain kicks in to remind her that he isn’t part of a dream this time. She blushes when she realizes he’s hard and staring at her intently. She wonders exactly how long he was watching her. It shocks her a bit, just how little that thought bothers her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by: [Any Other World 'verse](http://archiveofourown.org/series/240133)


End file.
